


To Nurture, To Grow

by StarryNox



Series: Dedue Week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), cw: canon typical racism, i'm sorry this is another greenhouse fic but in my defense it also takes place in the stables..., you could read this as the beginnings of maridue if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNox/pseuds/StarryNox
Summary: Marianne and Dedue help each other with their assigned chores and become friends along the way.
Relationships: Marianne von Edumd & Dedue Molinaro
Series: Dedue Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593397
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	To Nurture, To Grow

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to pause and give credit to the wonderful writer [queenowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenowl/pseuds/queenowl), as I borrowed the term "Day of Blood and Tears" as the Duscur way of referring to the Tragedy of Duscur from her.
> 
> Happy Dedue Week, everyone! The prompt I chose to focus on for today was "nature."

If Dedue had to choose a favorite place at Garreg Mach Monastery, it would be the greenhouse. In particular, he loves the area farthest from the entrance, where plants from the colder regions of Faerghus, Sreng, and, most importantly, Duscur, thrive. That he has to pass through the sticky, humid area devoted to plants from far warmer regions in order to visit is…not quite pleasant, outside of the summer months when the monastery grounds are just as warm, albeit far drier, but tolerable even when he must linger to tend to the unfamiliar blooms that grow there. When he is there, working the soil with his hands, surrounded by the flora of his blackened homeland, he can almost close his eyes and pretend he is miles away from the center of Fódlan, that there is more of Duscur left than a few patches of soil in a monastery full of people who support its demise. It is an illusion that he despises as much as he treasures.

But, if he is honest, he enjoys the solitude. Aside from the greenhouse keeper herself, who sees him often enough to simply let him be outside of a nod when he passes her, very few people spend much time here. It is to be expected—as students, they are training to be soldiers, not gardeners or farmers, and the clergy themselves are busy with other matters. Here, he finds a reprieve from any distrusting, sometimes even hateful, eyes, but the greenhouses are not so out of the way that the handful of people who _do_ seem to enjoy his presence ( no matter how often he warns against it ) cannot find him.

Even so, the sound of unfamiliar footsteps has him pausing in his work to glance behind him. He knows well the footsteps of his housemates who frequent the greenhouses—Ashe’s are so quiet that they can barely be heard even against the stone walkways, while Annette announces her presence with a skip in her step and the occasional crash as she inevitably knocks into one thing or another—but these are unfamiliar, and he has learned that it never hurts to watch his back, even here.

“Oh…um, hello,” Marianne ducks her head as she speaks to him—not once has she looked him in the eye, though his tall stature might make such a feat difficult regardless. But, he’s noticed, she never really looks anyone in the eye, if she can help it, preferring to stare at her shoes. If she must look at someone directly, it is usually from underneath her bangs. It and her Leicester heritage are enough to convince Dedue that it is nothing about his own person which unnerves her, and so he greets her with a solemn nod and the statement of her name.

She is late for greenhouse duty, which he knows because he knows the chore assignments for all of the Blue Lions, but he doesn’t say anything of it. So long as it is done in time, he sees no harm in it, and he does not have the heart to lecture her when she already seems to think so little of her own abilities.

He does intervene, however, when she nearly overwaters a Duscur saxifrage, as the people of Fódlan call it, reaching with a hand to tip the watering can back up.

“Purple saxifrage require little water,” he explains, and she grimaces even as she nods.

“I’m…not very good at this,” she says quietly.

“You were not given proper instruction,” Dedue corrects, knowing that the greenhouse keeper lacks the time to walk each student through every plant. How the greenhouse manages to thrive even with the students’ clumsy attempts at gardening, he does not know. Still, she does not look convinced. And so, Dedue sets down the shears he’s been using and motions her over. “I will teach you how to care for the flowers from my…from Duscur.”

Marianne is an attentive student, he knows, having shared a table with her for the first week after she transferred to their class. But, in her own words, she has never really worked with plants, and it shows in her work. But, in the end, she learns to care for each one, and he is treated with the rare sight of her smile once she’s done.

“You’re very good at this,” Marianne says, lingering a little longer to watch him as he returns to his own personal plot. She should go, but he does not have the heart to push her away. “At a lot of things…” Her gaze drops back to the floor. “I’m sorry, to have been a burden.” 

Dedue pauses in his work, his mind frozen. It isn’t as if he has never heard such words before—His Highness has spoken similarly, on occasion, particularly when he is at his worst. Yet to hear it from the mouth of a classmate he is not beholden to in such a way is…strange.

“You are not a burden.” Her eyes widen in surprise, and all at once, he understands.

Ever since the Day of Blood and Tears, since he swore himself as His Highness’s most hated shield, he has longed to hear those words from someone else and to believe them. He does not know what haunts her, but he knows this—those words are ones she has needed to hear, too.

* * *

It is three weeks later, and Dedue has been assigned, inexplicably, to stable duty. He cannot help but grimace. Most of his classmates enjoy working with the creatures, but he does not. As he hefts a bag of grain over his shoulder, he meets the baleful gaze of one of the steeds and wonders if they have learned from their carers. If they have, well. He reasons that if he can stand the thinly-veiled dislike of the humans who live within the monastery walls, then he can stand theirs as well. And so, he approaches, pouring feed into troughs and hoping he’s providing enough.

His village had been known for its smithies, not for its horses—in fact, he didn’t even know where the next village that did was, save for that it was beyond the mountains. There were a handful of farms in his village, but the horses there were at work, and the farming fields were no place for a child to play. And when he was old enough to begin learning his family’s trade, he spent most of his time in the forges, much to his younger sister’s dismay.

But at least, that he there is a set number of bags of feed that must be divided by a set number of horses, and so feeding them is a task he can manage. When it comes to grooming, however, he picks up the brush and stares at it helplessly. Not only is he hopelessly untrained for this task, he is quite certain that, should he dare step into a stall, he shall surely be kicked by its occupant. He need not have experience with horses to know that would be dangerous, at best.

“Um, are you all right?” He turns to find Marianne standing at his side. Since the day in the greenhouse, she’s been less reticent, when it is just the two of them. Or at least, she does not push him away the few times he has dared to verbally acknowledge her presence when it is just the two of them. In truth, neither of them are much for conversation, but they are, at least, able to enjoy a companionable silence as they work next to each other. If nothing else, he is able to read her a little more easily. “You seem…troubled. I don’t know if I can help, but…”

“You like animals, yes?” he says. She nods, her gaze straying to one stall in particular. _Dorte_ , the sign reads. Ah. He’s overheard Leonie say the name whilst talking with her. “The professor assigned me to stable duty…” He trails off, grimacing, not liking to expose his own failings. He’s learned that doing so is akin to leaving an opening in a sparring match, but…perhaps Marianne will not judge him.

“No one taught you how to care for them?” Marianne guesses, and he nods. Slowly, she smiles, even though she ducks her head as if to hide it. “Well, um, Dorte is very gentle, so…I could teach you, with him.”

“That would be…appreciated.” And so he learns from her, learns to brush and groom Dorte, to clean their stables and equipment. He still does not feel comfortable in such small quarters, but Marianne keeps Dorte calm, even teaches him how to calm the creatures. Even so, he is relieved that she comes with him into the next stall and the next, and it isn’t until he walks out of one to find her standing outside, smiling slightly, that he realizes he has managed to care for a horse without assistance. He blinks, turns and stares back at…Oakley, the sign reads, and finds that the creature is perfectly calm, even content, as she had been throughout his tasks.

“They like you,” Marianne says, softly.

“I…did not think it possible,” he admits. “Animals…they usually dislike my presence.”

“You were nervous,” she says with a shake of her head. “Animals…they can sense it. It makes them uneasy.”

“…I see.”

“There are, um, a lot of other animals here.” He knows she is referring, at the very least, to the numerous cats and dogs wandering its grounds. “If you’d like…I can help you with them, too.”

She should not spend such time in public with a man of Duscur, and yet, he finds himself nodding in agreement.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. “I can…cook you something, if you would like. In return.” But Marianne shakes her head.

“I like the animals,” she reminds him. “And, um, most of them fend for themselves…it’d be just spending time with…with a friend.” A _friend_. Are they friends? He isn’t sure that they are, not yet, but the idea of it still brings a slight warmth to his chest, a warmth that he had resigned himself to never experiencing again.

“I would be honored, to be your friend.”


End file.
